


The Fifteenth Member

by NightwingEarth16



Category: The Hobbit
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightwingEarth16/pseuds/NightwingEarth16
Summary: Just as Bilbo joined the Company, a new set of eyes follow the dwarves across Middle Earth.
Kudos: 1





	The Fifteenth Member

They don’t notice me, they don’t sense another in the trees as they fight the Mountain Trolls. The Halfling, the Hobbit, keeping close to the ground and making his way to the ponies that the Trolls had captured for dinner. Even he is seen by the others.   
  


Though he allows himself to be seen. I don’t have that luxury, not yet.   
  
However, he is also seen by one of the Trolls, I believe the one called William, see’s the Hobbit cut the ponies free, and lunges at him.   
  


“Bilbo,” one of the Dwarves shout, and attempt to rush towards him, only to be stopped by another Dwarf.   
  


Two Trolls, Bert and William, hold Bilbo in the air, each hand enclosing an arm and a leg. My fingers unconsciously touch my bow, and arrow already waiting to be fired.   
  


“Lay down your arms,” William orders, “Or we’ll rip his off.”   
  
  


Even from where I am in the trees, I can see the worry in the Hobbit’s face, in Bilbo’s face. There’s a moment of hesitation from the Dwarves below, then the one who stopped his companion from running forth, turns his blade down and stabs it into the earth.   
  


The other weapons follow, clearly demonstrating that the Dwarf who put his blade into the earth is the leader of the others.   
  


It doesn’t take long for the Trolls to bind the Dwarves and Bilbo, taking some of the Dwarves and tying them to a log over their fire, and tying the rest in burlap sacks.   
  


“Don’t bother cooking it,” Tom tells the other Trolls, walking back to the fire from looking at the others on the ground, “Let’s just sit on them and....squash ‘em into jelly!”   
  


“They should be sautéed,” Bert answers, still turning the poor Dwarves over the fire, “And grilled. With a sprinkle of sage.”   
  


“Oh, the does sound quite nice,” Tom agrees, licking his lips eagerly.   
  


How is it that the Trolls managed to not kill themselves from their cooking? Tom sneezed into their cauldron not long ago. What was it that Bert called his sneeze? Or right, a floater.   
  
“Never mind the seasoning,” William grumbles, still turning the log at one end while Bert turns the other end, “We ain’t got all night. Dawn ain’t far away, let’s get a move on! I don’t fancy being turned to stone.”   
  


I am about to let my arrow fly into William’s eye, but Bilbo’s voice stops me.

“Wait! You are making....a terrible mistake!”   
  


The Trolls look at Bilbo as he stands while still being tied in his sack, as well as the Dwarves.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits,” one of the Dwarves over the fire shouts.   
  


“Half-wits,” another says, still turning over the fire, “What does that make us?”   
  


The Dwarf does have a point.   
  


“I meant with the um,” Bilbo pants, hopping up and close to the fire, “With the seasoning.”   
  


“What about the seasoning,” Bert asks lowly, leaving his end of the log, though William continues to turn the Dwarves.

“Well have you smelt them,” Bilbo asks, gesturing his head to the Dwarves in the ground, “You’re going to need something stronger than seeds before you plate this on up.”   
  


My fingers relax slightly around the end of my arrow, still waiting if I need to fire it, but now also waiting to see if I need to fire it. 

“What do you know about cooking Dwarf,” William scoffs. 

  
“Shut up,” Bert tells William, now listening to Bilbo intently, “Let the uh...Flurguraburburahobbit talk.”   
  


Bilbo smiles for a moment, then opens his mouth once more, “The um, the secret to cooking Dwarf...is um...” 

Bilbo goes silent, clearly thinking of the secret.

“Yes,” William eggs him on impatiently, “Come on. Tell us the secret.”   
  


“Yes, yes,” Bilbo says, looking at the Trolls, “I’m telling you the secret is....” now his eyes look at the Dwarves on the ground, their eyes on him, “Tooooo, skin them first!”   
  


The Dwarves break out into cries of protest, Bert however, tells Tom to get him a knife.   
  


The Dwarves struggle and glare at Bilbo in anger. I don’t blame them, he just made their death that much closer.   
  


“What a load of rubbish,” William snarls, “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on! Scoff ‘em I say, boots and all!”

Bert returns to his end of the log to assist in the turning of the Dwarves as Tom get up from his position.   
  


“He’s right,” Tom says eagerly, his lips covered in his greedy saliva, “Nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf!”   
  


Tom’s hand comes down and grabs one of the Dwarves, bringing him up to take a bite.   
  


I don’t hesitate any longer. My arm pulls back, the cord touching my cheek for a moment before the arrow flies. My arrow buries itself into Tom’s wrist.   
  


He cries out in pain, dropping the poor Dwarf back on the ground.   
  


I am already loading another arrow into my bow to fire again, the Trolls not yet able to find where the arrow came from.   
  


Another arrow flys before I leap down from my tree, the sharp end lodging itself into Williams cheek.   
  


Bert storms in the direction of where I first shot the arrows, but I am already hiding behind a different tree, close to the Dwarves and far from where I had shot.   
  


One of the Dwarves, the one who tried to run forth and help Bilbo, is looking around and his eyes land on mine. I quickly put a finger to my lips, ordering his silence. Thankfully, he does fall silent and looks away.   
  


“There’s nothing here,” Bert snarls, Tom pulling my arrow out of his wrist with a whimper and William doing the same but with a growl.   
  


“What other squirrels are out here,” Tom demands, picking up the Dwarf who saw me, holding him upside down.   
  


“I don’t know,” he answers, struggling in his sack.   
  


“We can take whoever it is,” William says, looking around, “Put the Dwarf down, Tom.”   
  


Tom grumbles and drops the Dwarf, the same way he did with the first Dwarf he picked up. The Trolls look around the trees, but do not move from their fire.   
  


A figure appears behind them, a Wizard, and stands on a boulder. The first rays of the morning sun are painted in the sky, and the Wizard opens his mouth, “The dawn will take you!”   
  


“Who’s that,” William asks as he, Bert and Tom turn to face the Wizard.   
  


“No idea,” Bert answers.   
  


“Can we eat him to,” Tom asks.   
  


Not a moment later, the Wizard brings down the end of his staff, breaking the boulder in half.   
  


Bright sunlight pierces across the clearing, and the Trolls cry out in pain, the sound of water splashing over a hot pan erupting from their bodies as their skin is turned to stone.   
  


It takes only a moment for the sun to turn the Trolls into stone completely, and in that moment, I put my arrow back in my quiver and strap my bow over my shoulder before making my way over to the Dwarves on the ground. My dark blue hood is pulled over my eyes, but I can still see if I look down.  
  


I find myself freeing the one who saw me first. He doesn’t have a long beard the way the other dwarves do, but a fine dark stubble that matches his dark brown hair.   
  


“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice says.   
  


My eyes close in a grimace, then open them again to continue helping the Dwarf out of his binding.   
  


“You know who this is,” someone asks the Gray Wizard.   
  


“I’m familiar with them, yes,” he responds.   
  


The ropes fall from the Dwarf I was helping and he is now free. Without speaking, I go to the next Dwarf, one with twisted salt and pepper braids for his beard and begin to help him. 

  
“Thank you,” someone says from behind me. I assume it’s the Dwarf I helped first, and I see his hands working beside mine to free his companions.   
  


Soon, the Dwarves are free from the burlap sacks, and the ones who were tied to the log above the fire are safely down and putting their clothing back on.   
  


“Will you be with us for a while,” Gandalf asks me as I pick up the arrows that the Trolls pulled from their skin.

“Who is this,” someone asks, their voice deep.   
  


There is no response, Gandalf giving me the chance to answer for myself.   
  


“Who are you,” the voice asks again, this time with more impatience than before.   
  


“No one you need to learn the name of,” I respond, voice clipped and eyes still looking at my arrows as I clean them.   
  


I expect the speaker to respond, but there is only the sound of footsteps walking away. Taking a risk, I glance behind me to see that Gandalf is talking with a Dwarf, the same Dwarf who was the first to drop his weapon.   
  


The Hobbit, Bilbo, is looking at me. I place the two arrows back into my quiver and look around the Trolls. They are forever rock now, but they often have things of use around them.   
  


“I don’t suppose you talk,” someone asks me. I turn to the voice and see it’s the Dwarf with the dark stubble, another Dwarf next to him. The second Dwarf has golden hair and a golden beard, two small braids tied at the end of his mustache, small silver beads keeping them together.   
  


“I do,” I answer.   
  


There’s hesitation again, the two waiting to hear if I want to say anything else.   
  


“Well, thank you,” the Dwarf with the golden hair says, “You really helped us. I’m Fili, and this is my brother, Kili.”   
  


Fili and Kili smile at me. I can’t help but give a small smile in return. My smile quickly drops though when the Dwarf and Gandalf walk back over.   
  


“May the company know your name from you, or from me,” the Gray Wizard asks.   
  


All eyes are now looking at me. I feel so exposed in their sight, as though every scrap of clothing has been stripped away.   
  


“Zella,” I tell them, though my eyes look at Kili. For some reason, his eyes don’t feel as though they are stripping me of my clothing.   
  


“It’s good to see you again, Zella,” Gandalf says, I can hear the smile in his voice, “And I’m glad that you helped the Company.”

“How many are there,” I ask, looking at the others.   
  


“Thirteen Dwarves, one Hobbit, and me,” Gandalf answers, “Care to be the fifteenth member?” 


End file.
